“Too many hearts on too many strings,
We could cut them down, but instead we let them hang in the breeze,
Oh, my brothers, tell me why.
And why is my sister down on her knees, crying out, "Won't somebody love me"?
And where are we?
Didn't He love them?
Didn't He hold out His hand?
Wasn't Jesus a model, an example to man of how we must love everyone in this land and give 'til it hurts?
Isn't that part of the plan?
But we can't see through our religious charade, to take what He's given and give love away.
One more night, no place to call home,
A torn-up jacket on his back, it's getting pretty cold,
Where do I stand?
Do I reach out my hand?
And one more child's face on my TV screen,
She's dying of hunger; why can't we meet her need?
And where are we?
Didn't He love them?
Didn't He hold out his hand?
Wasn't Jesus a model, an example to man of how we must love everyone in this land and give 'til it hurts?
Isn't that part of the plan?
But we can't see through our holy façade, to do the one thing that we're called to by God.
Didn't He love us?
Didn't He hold out his hand?
Wasn't Jesus a model, an example to man,
He said, "Love every person, everyone in this land, and give 'til it hurts,"
And wasn't that part of the plan?
But we've all been blinded by our selfish ways,
Can we change this pattern?
Will we stay the same?
Didn't he love them?
Didn't he hold out his hand?
Wasn't Jesus a model, an example to man of how we must love everyone in this land and give 'til it hurts?
Isn't that part of the plan?
Didn't he love them?
Didn't he hold out his hand?
Wasn't Jesus a model, an example to man of how we must love everyone in this land and give 'til it hurts?
Isn't that part of the plan?
Didn't he love them?
Didn't he love them?
Didn't he love them?
Didn't he love them?”
“Didn’t He” — Pray for Rain, PFR {listen here}
I used the song above in a previous Music & Lyrics post but since it’s still on repeat in my heart and head almost a year later, I’m using it again here as my headlining song because these lyrics are the crux of so much for me.
When it comes down to it, the thing that I struggle with most about the current state of affairs in the United States, with the recent election results, the wave of Christian Nationalism, and the false claims that Christians are being persecuted in this country is that this is not the faith I was raised in and with. The faith planted into my head and heart — the love and the ways of Jesus that were sown there — are no longer treasured or even pursued by the people who helped plant them.
I can’t make sense of it. When and why did the faith that raised me become so twisted? What made so many people trade compassion for cruelty and Jesus’s model and example for that of someone like #47 and his ilk?
I was raised in a Christian faith that taught me to love my neighbor as myself — to welcome the stranger, to care for the vulnerable, to embody the compassion of Jesus.
But now I see so many Christians celebrating the deporation of our immigrant neighbors, cheering as families are torn apart and lives are uprooted. I can’t make sense of it. When did the command to love become conditional? When did fear and nationalism replace grace and mercy? How did a faith built on radical love turn into something so unrecognizable?
I keep asking myself — what happened? And how do we find our way back?
The words above are not mine (though the emphasis is), but they may as well be — they express to the very letter my own heart and how I’ve been feeling for the last nine years. The words above were written by Tim Whitaker of The New Evangelicals.
I know the government can’t fix everything, especially because it’s full of mostly power-seeking people and made up of corrupt systems. And the Church has made it clear that they are similarly incapable of helping address humanity’s magnitude of issues.
But the people of God? Actual Jesus-followers? We are called to a higher standard of living. We are called to match our priorities to those of the Triune God. To love what He loves and hate what He hates. To value the lives of every single person — including and sometimes even concentrating on the marginalized and the least. God’s heart for justice — including social justice — should be our own.
Life in the Kingdom of God is not just some far-fetched, pie-in-the-sky future that permits us to live now as if none of this matters. Because all of it matters. The Kingdom of God is here, now, and we are called to further it in any way we can. Today. Now. Jesus’s model of how to pray, The Lord’s Prayer, petitions God to make His Kingdom come on earth, as it is in heaven.
So how is it that so many believe there won’t be enough? That the presence of immigrants and diversity, equity, and inclusion policies means there will be a scarcity of jobs or food or money — or rights — to go around? Or that the presence of people of color and LGBTQIA+ people somehow lessens their own personhood and rights?
Is it fear? Is it in an effort to make everyone conform? Or is it, more likely, an effort to keep people “out” and to exclude anyone who looks, speaks, or acts differently?
As I said, I can’t make sense of it. But I’m praying daily for wisdom and opportunities to make a difference in my neighborhood, community, city, and state. I am prioritizing God’s heart over all else. I am calling my senators and representatives to make my voice heard. I am volunteering with organizations that will help protect the very people Jesus protected and anyone and everyone whose lives and existence is less safe since the election. I am even upskilling and reskilling with a heart toward and the intent to help change things.
And although the faith community that raised me may have deviated from His example, I will not.